


An Unexpected Path

by Enchantedtalisman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic Isn't Evil, Dimension Travel, Light Magic isn't Good, M/M, Magically Proficient Harry Potter, Time Travel, Warding Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantedtalisman/pseuds/Enchantedtalisman
Summary: It took Harry time to realize he wasn't dead or disembodied or back at his home. Time where people walked by and for the first five minutes Harry thought they were ghosts.Possibly why they started avoiding him afterwards.Eventually, Harry was able to get his bearings and realize he was on a streetcorner of Lumos-Alley. The general business district of the London-magical world. He stared at it because he was pretty damn sure a raid had destroyed most of it three years ago. But here it was, intact for the most part.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie I've been rereading Left Side of the Chest by Jenny-wren (go read it if you haven't cuz they're an amazing fuckin' writer and it's definitely worth the read), and been craving some more dimension travel Harry/Sirius.
> 
> Spent far too long trying to come up with something that wouldn't feel like an outright copy.
> 
> Enjoy!~

Stones set in the proper directions. Soaked in the required amount of blood (which had needed blood replenishing potions, and a lot of them). Emerald gleaming from a necklace at Harry's throat. And the words were easy to remember after reading them for the last two months. They spilled from Harry's lips and his magic thrummed under him, trying desperately to escape.

But like all Dark Magic, control was important and he refused to lose it. Power thrummed from the ritual stones around him and time seemed to slow. Space started spreading in odd ways, stretching the floor and air in obvious unnatural ways.

Just as the last sentence was forming on Harry's tongue the ritual rooms door opened and potion ingredients Harry knew were locked up tight spilled in. Unicorn Horn, thestral tailhair, phoenix feather, basilisk eye (out of its preserving jar). His heart in his throat he tried casting them out with his wand but the magics had activated and with a frustrated sob Harry knew the spell, his plans, were ruined.

It took Harry time to realize he wasn't dead or disembodied or back at his home. Time where people walked by and for the first five minutes Harry thought they were ghosts.

Possibly why they started avoiding him afterwards.

Eventually, Harry was able to get his bearings and realize he was on a streetcorner of Lumos-Alley. The general business district of the London-magical world. He stared at it because he was _pretty_ damn sure a raid had destroyed most of it three years ago. But here it was, intact for the most part.

A quick check, and at least his assortment of supplies were there, even if he couldn’t find his wand. Sorrow filled Harry’s being and while of course he had guessed that his wand wouldn’t be allowed into the past, being Voldemort’s brother wand, it still  _hurt_ .

Other than Hedwig, his wand of holly and phoenix had been his first true friend in the Wixen World, at least until Ron and then Hermione.

Harry stood straighter, he would find a wand shop; later was preferable after he had recovered from the crippling blow. But, realistically, even with his wandless magic and potions meticulously crafted (take that Snape), Harry knew it was too risky to not have one on him. He took a moment, checked a mirror from his pocket to make sure the auburn tint to his black hair hadn’t faded—a way to keep people from guessing his relation to the Potters, and  he was headed out of Lumos-Alley.

Diagon Alley intersected between four different magical alleys. Knockturn, Lumos, Giantin, and Holden. Any other time, Harry would probably head straight for Ollivanders, but while his wands were dependable, Harry couldn’t afford to bring attention to himself when he didn’t know when or where he was.

For all he knew, he could be in a time where Potters were a dime a dozen and Ollivander was too damn canny for minor gene therapy through potions to fool him.

The shop that Harry found was down Holden Alley, small and undisturbed by costumers as far as he could tell. When he entered, though, he could feel the power hidden in the back at least a dozen or more wands ready and waiting for their match.

A person blinked up at Harry before waving him closer, “Come in, come in, I expect you’re needing a wand?” They didn’t wait for Harry to answer, instead pulling out a box that slid open to show a myriad of different materials. “Samples, now tell me which call to you.”

Easier said than done, Harry’s eyes traveled to the phoenix feather and holly block of wood, but he could tell just from a foot away that they didn’t want him anymore.

Somehow, that hurt even worse than knowing his wand was gone. But, Harry shored himself up; he had a mission wherever here was, and that meant either going forward in time, further back, or dealing with Voldemort in the now. Whatever the case may be he needed a wand.

Just as Harry reaffirmed himself he was surprised to see two blocks of wood slide out of their placement and a rather odd banging sound from further inside the wand shop.

“Oh, my, two woods, and some rarer material.” The wand maker looked absolutely excited and before Harry could reply or do anything they took the two wood samples and disappeared into the back.

With an amused huff, Harry carefully closed the sample box and headed towards one of the chairs nearby. A brief tempus confirmed he was in the wrong time 1994, the summer before fourth year, which meant he was fourteen years away from where he had wanted to be.

But, fourth year wasn’t a bad place. Sure, Harry had wanted to stop his parents from dying and Sirius from being held in Azkaban but...his non-blood family certainly deserved to live, didn’t they? And cleaning up the death eaters while they were still untethered would be _easy_ right now. Rather than during the downfall of Voldemort and their paranoia high and alert.

Of course, Harry would also need to start looking for the anchor to Voldemort’s soul. It wasn’t a hocrux like Dumbledore had expected, thankfully, but if it had been moved after Harry’s fifth year that would be a problem, since Harry only knew where it was when he was eighteen.

If it hadn’t been moved, than Harry was sure it would be in Riddle Manor—where else would Voldemort place a twisted curse.

A curse that was  _meant_ to cause unending suffering to a foe by keeping them locked onto the mortal plane, unable to fully end their existence. Harry had never quite figured out how Voldemort had cast it at himself so that he didn’t become an immovable ghost but clearly part of the curse’s restrictions had been removed.

Which was concern for another day, because there was the wand-maker, grinning from ear to ear. They held out the opened box towards Harry.

Harry stood and peered into the box.

Beautifully carved, a wand straight ten inches and a half Harry guessed. The main wand was a deep beige and the spiraled wood around it was a clear, almost translucent amber tone. Even before Harry reached for it he could feel the core—bright and powerful. Something that made him shiver from head to toe.

“Ten inches and a half, rowan body with a fir spiral for balance, and,” They grew excited and looked ready to jump out of their shoes, “Unicorn blood freely given as a core.”

Harry swallowed and glanced at the wand maker, but they didn’t look like they were lying, and the wand didn’t feel malicious. Or evil—evil magics were easy to feel for a dark wizard like Harry—since so many evil wixen loved hiding behind Dark Magic.  Their spells tended to taint and twist Dark Magic to the point that several governments had banned the whole branch.

W hen Harry picked up the wand it felt like a long lost friend had met him. Magic, black in color, flickered across his fingers, and the wand sang of protection and strength.

Moments later the lights settled and Harry couldn’t help the smile at his wand which glowed in warmth in return.

“Wonderful, wonderful. A Rutswin special,” They, Rutswin apparently, said with a fierce grin. “Now that will be fifteen galleons.”

Harry gladly paid it and checked his holster with a few detection charms before putting it away and heading out.

Now to find a library or a prophet stand. The former would be better but he had no idea when the libraries Hermione visited frequently, and the ones Harry had after her death, had been built.

_Library of Magical London_

Harry blinked and blinked again. But the words were still there. The building too, which Harry was sure hadn’t been there in his time, young or old, and certainly not  _Magical London_ ; most didn’t call it that.

At least, Harry hadn’t heard anyone call it that.

Either way, it was a Library, and one that he was determined to learn from.

A brief press of his wand against the door allowed him (wards that Harry suspected were intent and checking if he was mundane and aware of the magical opening around him) in. He skimmed the shelves nearby briefly before finding a directory.

Nothing special, just an open book of parchment and a quill with renewing ink. (Something to do with an accio spell placed on the quill, if Harry remembered right)

_Daily Prophet – Newspapers_

Harry wrote in his messy scrawl, and placing the quill back into the almost empty ink-well.

A pause where nothing happened ,  and then slowly Directions and Newspapers started appearing;

Daily Prophet Section J

Quibbler Section J

English Morning Section J

European Wixen Report Section J

Guten Tag (German) Section J

…

Harry skimmed the rest and took note of the  paper he had never heard of (English Morning), and headed into the shelves.

Unlike the Diagon Library in Harry’s time, this one took a bit of maneuvering. It was ridiculously large and Harry swore the stairs and shelves moved.

Finally, there was  _Section J_ . Harry grimaced at the Section, it was full and though he could feel shrinking and spacial magics on the magazines and newspapers they still took a good portion of the building.

With a sigh, Harry started skimming, hopefully he could finish this up before nightfall. He didn't really want to sleep his first night here in the library.

Hermione, wherever she was, afterlife or reincarnation, was no doubt laughing at him right about now.

“Another world,” Harry frowned at the newspapers he had copied (thankfully only a few knuts for each copy, magic was great that way) temporarily stuck to the walls of the _Prancing Goblins_. It was probably a good thing that this Inn was at the end of Giatin, or Harry suspected that Gringott’s would have words.

But, the world, the prophet and the other newspapers that talked about a surge of children joining the Hogwarts class after the first war was defeated. (Thanks to the girl-who-lived;  _Luna Lovegood_ of all people) Two hundred in the coming class, not to mention the three hundred that came after Harry’s class, and  _then_ the four hundred.

Minister Bones ( _Amelia Bones)_ dismantling the Dementors and throwing all of them into the veil.

Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in prison.

Lily and James Potter given the Order of Merlin first class for saving Luna Lovegood from Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers.

Which, was, heart-rending, knowing his parents were alive. But they weren’t  _his parents_ . They even had a Harry Potter, who had joined Hogwarts in 1991. And then Lotus Potter had joined in 1992. Another Potter was slotted to join in 1994.

Harry had to stop pulling at his hair before he tore a chunk off. But the aching in his heart hurt, and worse, he was  _jealous_ . Jealous of this Harry Potter.

Even worse, was knowing part of the reason this Potter family was okay was because Luna suffered. Her story was brief, surprisingly, but it mentioned living with a cousin and  death of her father protecting her baby form, and that was it. Whoever her Guardian was clearly had a tight rein on the media.

W ith a groan Harry fell onto his rented bed and covered his face. Knowing that Luna had a good father (considering the man hadn’t really done much in terms of the War) was enough. He wouldn’t let his jealousy or envy consume him. Instead, he would make sure Luna didn’t have to deal with all the things  _he_ had to as the child-who-lived. Tomorrow he could start scouting Riddle Manor and other areas in  _his_ dimension that were Death Eater hidey-holes.

For now, he would mourn and grieve and forgive himself for the traitorous thoughts to one of his good friends, and his other self, and sometime in the darkness fall asleep to quiet dreams.

M orning came far too early,  and  Harry took a long time to remember where he was and what was happening.

Thankfully, the Prancing Goblins, were good enough not to wake him, and even had a summoning menu that allowed him to eat breakfast alone in his room. No house-elves in slavery so far, Harry marked a maybe on causing a house-elf revolt in his journal of things to do—spelled so no one but his magical blood could open it.

Several points would have to be adjusted. Whatever had brought Harry here clearly was mystical in nature and not something he was sure he wanted to try and defy. His potions room had been warded to hell and back, and he suspected something  _other_ had interfered with his ritual.

A quick shower, which was definitely needed, and a change of clothes (thank the gods for endless spelled-bags), and Harry was folding and putting away the newspapers and headed out. He paid for his room and breakfast on the way out.

Giatin Alley was far too cheerfully bright in the morning, but Harry had to make a new vault—he didn’t feel comfortable holding the whole of Black and Potter vaults (and Granger, Weasley, Tonks, Lovegood... but he tried not to think about those) in his bag spelled to death with protection or not.

Dwarves, unlike Goblins were a race that usually didn’t do business in Britain, but Harry was glad to see like in his dimension, they still had a small bank in Magical London. Though, it wasn’t in Lumos Alley like his own world.

Making the account took longer than Harry expected, blood for verification, three magically binding contracts (one that he didn’t steal the money he was presenting, two to verify that he would not intentionally bring harm to the Dwarven bank of London, and three to not remove a great portion of his money from the bank in an untimely manner), and a trip down steps that felt too long and too short before he was at his vault.

A crystal like structure that he couldn’t see through but a light hammer touch by the Dwarf escorting Harry and he was inside and dropping his coinage.

After the Dwarf counted, and offered a magically connected bag (with appropriate safety charms incase of theft), Harry was finally free of the financial obligations for the moment.

Depending on if he survived the next year here, Harry might actually have to keep up with his estate, he grimaced.

The cottage Harry bought was more a shack, and only the spells he had learned during his work on Potter Manor (The closest thing to a home Sirius ever had) helped him whip it up into shape. It wasn’t even that expensive considering how badly in despair it was.

Days passed as Harry worked on the cabin, wrote in the journal, and scoured history books that he bought in different disguises. Perhaps he was being a little paranoid, but after thinking Ron was safe in a house in Godric’s Hallow warded to the brim, and Voldemort still finding Ron the one time they didn’t disguise themselves, well. It was just better to be overly cautious, in Harry’s opinion.

Finally, the building was done a month into Harry’s stay and inbetween he had gathered some information about the history of this world.

Unlike his own this Ministry seemed somewhat competent—instead of clutching their pearls their Auror’s had been actually fighting the Death Eaters—perhaps poorly with Lucius Malfoy gearing the wheels here and there, but somewhat. Which was a fair bit better than Harry’s universe. He couldn’t, sadly find much about the Blacks, other than Andromeda Tonks-Black taking control of the family through a duel between Andromeda and Walburga about nineteen years ago; the cause wasn’t in the history books.

Sirius Black appeared to still be Heir, though it didn’t explain why Tonks wasn’t. Harry doubted he would find out unless he interacted with them. With how he still felt a heart-wrenching pang staring at a Sirius Black, (looking rather good for not having been in Azkaban for thirteen years) standing beside a gorgeous Andromeda Black, he doubted he would ever interact with them in this Dimension.

All that was left was Voldemort.

A man who seemed to have died thanks to Luna, but none of the death eaters had lost their mark. A similar symptom that had happened in Harry’s Universe, but not total proof, for all Harry knew this Voldemort had been a minor Dark Lord, the war had lasted relatively long but there were vastly different happenings in this world. Like how there were twice, _triple_ the amount of Hogwarts students in this world. Or the stipend under-earning Wixen received monthly.

Harry had no idea how that had passed considering Lucius and the Lestranges had been out and about before Voldemort’s death.

All in all, it was a lot.

But, Harry didn’t have time to sit idly by, he made sure the wards on his new hide-away were strong, and headed out to Riddle Manor.

If there were Dark Lords to be found—surely it would be there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you can't write chapter three because your nose won't stop being an sinus-infected ass and chill for an hour or two.
> 
> Anyway, I'm liking where this is headed even if it's a little wonky and silly at times.
> 
> Enjoy~

Riddle Manor, was a desolate place. Full of evil magics that twisted and hungered.

Honestly, Harry was amazed the care-taker had lasted so long considering what Tom had left on the house. The care-taker must have had one strong will to live. A twirl of Harry’s wand had the ambient shadows pulling closer to him; Dark Friend was a cute name for a spell that when fully mastered could make even the weakest of Dark Wixen join the shadows like a full fledged Vampire.

Getting through the yard was easy, either because no one was here or Voldemort didn’t want to draw attention.

Harry was just stepping closer to the front door, utterly pretentious in their wealth, when he felt it.

Like a snake (Very original Tom, Harry thought with annoyance) the wards were laying in wait, just for an unsuspecting wixen or muggle to touch the doors. Frowning, Harry took a few steps to the side. The windows were ornate and not great for looking into (or out, Harry assumed). It was dark inside and even a minor Sight Unseen spell didn’t allow Harry to see much past a few feet. Either the Wards helped shroud the building or it really was just that dark inside.

If Harry didn’t hate them both, he would feel bad for Barty and Wormtail both living in this utter darkness.

The easy method would be to use a series of spells to break the wards while placing an appiration ward around the manor. But Harry wasn’t sure if Voldemort was here, and he hardly wanted to tip his hand when they hadn’t started their true return to the Wixen World.

Instead, Harry spun his wand beckoning more shadows to him. With enough skill, patience, and control Harry could—the shadows slid across his skin feeling cool and welcoming. Tight and warm, just a shadow, not a magical or intruder just a shadow.

The dark magic seeped from Harry, adding power to his spell, and the wards didn’t so much bend as ignored him because he was a shadow.

Closing the door behind him, Harry methodically went through the entrance hall, the rooms to the sides, and down another hall. He could vaguely feel magic further in, but without blowing his cover he couldn’t stretch his magic wide and feel properly.

More empty rooms, and more likely that Voldemort wasn’t here at all. Harry bit his lip and focused. Even if the bastard wasn’t here, it would be a blow to destroy the Mansion and take away another safe-house for the Death Eaters.

Finally, Harry reached the last room, he listened intently before opening the door. The shadows grasping at the edges to make it appear as if it was never open in the first place.

“Where is Wormtail?” Voldemort’s familiar hissing voice. It sounded a little odd but a glance in his direction explained it, he was in that disgusting homunculus.

And there was Barty Crouch, except this time it looked like...the elder?

Harry frowned, what had changed to make Barty Sr. a Death Eater? He hadn’t seen a mention of the man’s son, nor actually if he remembered right seen Barty as the last Minister. Was that it? The inability to gain power?

“Hiding from those blood traitors,” Barty sneered and then he was feeding Voldemort a baby bottle. Except the bottle had an eerily glowing gray liquid.

Harry didn’t want to know what was in there. Now knowing his target was here, and most likely the curses anchor, Harry had several options. He could set his own counter to the curse a Purification of the Dark that would eventually encroach from Harry onto the building and cleanse any evil magics, or he could cast fiendfyre, or Bombardment of Light, which in Harry’s opinion was just a fancy way of saying Fiendfyre-the light magic version. There were other methods of course the Light Purification Threshold was a good way to deal with evil magick-ed houses or buildings, but since Harry didn’t have an affinity for light magic anymore it would take longer to create. He could also throw several varieties of cleansing potions though the downside was he would have to brew them if he didn’t have any on him (he didn’t think he did but he prepped thoroughly before leaving his timeline).

“Enough,” Voldemort sounded put upon.

Barty Sr. pulled the bottle away and with a flick of his wand vanished it. “Shall I continue working on bending the Ministry’s ear for the Tri-Wizard tournament?”

“Yess, have the Lovegood brat joining the Tournament to empower the ritual.” Voldemort hissed.

Harry felt no sympathy, the monster had done this to himself. But he was losing time and Barty looked ready to leave. He gripped his wand and thought of happy days with Ron and Hermione; pushing away the thoughts of their murdered bodies (vividly imprinted thanks to Voldemort’s jeering and mental assaults before their final battle). Of wonderful evenings with Teddy Lupin before he and his grandmother fell to rogue Death Eaters Harry had thought were dead or fled.

Teddy with his smiling, gummy mouth, and Andromeda murmuring about spoiling Teddy everytime Harry came with a new toy or bobble.

Of Ron playing chess in the warmth of the firelight.

Hermione reading a book and explaining to Harry while he indulged her ever increasingly complex rant.

Fondness and love filled Harry and he twisted his wand in a hexagon pattern twice, before flicking down to the ground, “Tenebris Purificacionis!” Before either Voldemort could screech in rage or Barty could raise his wand towards Harry, billowing clouds of darkness filled the room pushing back the evil magic of the wards that tried to converge on Harry. More of it spread, filling the room and causing Voldemort to cry out in pain.

Barty looked like he was barely standing the dark mark on his arm burning bright as it too was purified, “Who dares come here?” It would have sounded more intimidating if he wasn’t struggling to speak.

Harry blamed Hermione and her mandatory friday night movie binge-watching for wanting to say your worst nightmare, but instead he spun his wand over his head, increasing the flow of his magic into the spell. More clouds of dark energy filled the building and the sound of a screeching came from the center of the house.

“No! Stop him before he destroys my greatest work!” Voldemort shrilled. The fact that he was still alive with the thick magic demanding everything be purged was surprising.

What wasn’t surprising was the Killing Curse that Barty sent Harry’s way.

Harry dodged, pulling out a vial from his robes, and throwing it to counter.

A downside to purification spells, they wouldn’t allow any other spell to be cast from the foci. Harry wasn’t chancing the curse or Voldemort escaping and so that also left out wandless magic.

Barty slashed his wand cutting the potion intwain.

The gleaming red liquid shimmered in the air for a moment before exploding. Wind billowed out and blew both Harry and Barty across the room. Red Wind was a good potion to distract and confound enemies with it’s surprising effect, if an opponent didn’t know what it was at least.

Even before the wind started pushing them away Harry was throwing another potion towards Barty, aiming for the ground.

Barty cast again, and it was only the strength of the purification spell that stopped the Crucio in it’s tracks. Evil magic would not be able to penetrate the thick clouds of Dark Magic now saturating the building.

The screeching from further into the house had stopped, and Harry was pretty damn sure the curse keeping Voldemort on the mortal plane was gone.

The potion hit the ground, Harry thought it was odd that Barty didn’t try to counter it but the satisifaction of the liquid escaping and spilling across the floor distracted him. Light of Justice was a complicated and archiac potion; no one in Harry’s time had bothered making or using it for a hundred years because it took months to make and required precise instructions.

It judged those near it and punished them for preceived wrongs—Light Magic brimmed from the floor and grasped at Barty’s robes and at the ‘crib’ that held Voldemort.

“Hurry!” Voldemort gasped, and only then did Harry realize what was happening.

Harry quickly searched through his many potions but Barty was leaving his burning shoes—and with smoking feet ran and crashed through a window, escaping with a loud crack before Harry could run closer—not with the searing light inbetween him and the window.

“Asshole,” Harry cursed and then sighed at the searing light slowly coming closer. While he didn’t think he would be judged too harshly he had no desire for his potion to pick on him. He left the room, and allowed the purification clouds spread further into the house.

Ten minutes later when the wards finally collapsed in on themselves and the stones started to crumble around Harry, he decided the curse had to be gone (there was no magic left except his own and the potion still lingering in the room where he had found Barty and Voldemort), and disapparated.

“Pros, he’s going to be dead soon.” Harry murmured fingering his quill and gazing down at his journal, “Cons, he may try finishing the ritual sooner or somehow piggyback on Barty’s magic to cast the curse again.” The purification magic should have severly weakened both of them though.

After all both, if Barty Senior was a true Death Eater, would have committed acts that were atrocious and even the weakest of purification magics would act like an infection to those who dabbled in evil magics.

Unless Barty Sr did something soon than eventually Voldemort’s very soul wouldn’t be able to endure the purification without a body at least.

Barty himself might survive the purification, though Harry had only ever read about the subject—any Death Eater he had used the same spell on in the past had died almost agonizingly.

Riddle Manor had successfully crumbled, which meant one less hide out for Tom, and Harry would go back later to deal with his father’s corpse—he regretted not doing that before, but it was too late now.

Luna would need to be monitored, while Harry didn’t want to abuse the young girl’s quirks, she would probably not tattle if he gave her an item to keep her safe.

Harry sighed and closed his journal, magical locks clicking into place, and set his quill back in it’s sheath, and put them away into his bag. For now he would wait for Voldemort to poke his head out, create a protection item for Luna, and destroy other avenues that the Dark Lord might have here.

Thankfully, a majority of his supporters appeared to either be in hiding or in prison—which, Harry still needed to read up on.

So many things to do, Harry rolled his shoulders and grimaced at how his robes smelled. It could wait until a shower. A nice hot one.

The shower was brilliant, though finicky, the spells to gather water and bring it into the house would have to be examined but for now Harry let himself rest on his new bed. It had come in a shrunk package and was surprisingly soft. Spoiling himself wasn’t something Harry was used too but he figured if he was going to be in this cottage for who knew how long until he cleared out all the genocidal maniacs, he might as well have a few creature comforts.

Sleep alluded him, unsurprisingly—he had become such a workaholic it would have either made Hermione proud or worried. Instead, Harry summoned a stack of books to his bed and went back to reading—he still couldn’t figure out the reason why this universe had turned out differently. For all he knew, it could be just all based on the whimsy of luck, but he supposed the Ministry with more competent (if still mildly corrupt) individuals in power probably helped, but that didn’t explain the excess of students—the stipend would have helped too.

But it was the Adoption Act that the Founders had apparently created even before the Ministry that finally broke through it for Harry. Each Founder had adopted as many children as their family magics could handle—orphans, muggle borns, and even accidents from young wixen that couldn’t raise them.

To say they created it would be wrong, Harry decided after reading more, it was their actions that had set up for the existence of the act—purebloods not wanting to be shamed by the Muggleborn, halfblood, and pureblood Founders had started doing the same and when the Ministry finally formed so too did the act and it was credited to the Founders.

Then of course were the family names that had made the Britain population of Wixen almost triple what it had been in Harry’s world; probably more if Harry counted all the family lines that ended thanks to the war.

Harry tried not to feel jealous, or wonder why the Founders hadn’t done that in his timeline. He continued reading, idly noting that Merlin had created a truce with Morgana and Camelot had lasted for another fifty years before falling; longer than in his world.

Falling asleep happened around the time Harry was reading on King Arthur and Court Magician Merlin marrying, and Morgana Le Fay casting the marriage bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse any weird formatting got a new word-program and so I'm still getting used it it's bells and whistles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some reason ao3 and Scrivener really don't like eachother huh.
> 
> Also, I WAS going to wait until I finished chapter four (I always like being a chapter ahead when I'm on a roll, don't @ me about my other stories) but I'm impatient and figured I'd share this chapter.
> 
> This is really coming off self-indulgent and I'd apologize but there's so little Dimension travel tropes that aren't bashing I refuse to apologize.
> 
> Enjoy~

The next week was spent creating a proper protection amulet, unfortunately enchanting wasn ’t Harry’s  _ best _ field. Charms, he could do, which was the easy part when it came to the amulet; a mixed warming/cooling charm that would activate depending on the weather, a minor soothing charm that Hermione had made specifically for Harry ’s discomfort with Dementors (the overpowered version was reserved for situations in which Harry hoped Luna wouldn’t get into). A proximity alert charm that should heat up the amulet if anyone with a Dark Mark was nearby.

Harry had to do more though, it was a good start, certainly, but he had to read up on enchanting and beginner enchantment exercises.

Another week passed before Harry felt familiar with the enchanting, and then  _ another week _ ; because he didn ’t want the enchantment to break or worse, collapse (possibly hurting Luna in the process).

By the time he was ready to give it to the girl he realized it was late August and it was doubtful that he would be able to get to her.

Not if Albus was insistent on paying attention this late in the summer; Harry understood it now, older and wartorn, this would be the perfect time for a Death Eater or Voldemort to take the child-who lived. It still stung just a  _ smidge _ even at twenty five years old.

Harry refined the amulet, changing the temp charms to make it a true enchantment that would react to Luna ’s body rather than just the ambient temperature. He modified a meager Patronus (though it was nothing strong and needed to piggy back onto the soothing charm to work) to exude from the amulet, and of course refine the proximity alert. For all Harry knew someone else had taken up Severus’ place in Hogwarts and he didn’t want to risk that interfering. Adding a signaler so Harry would know if there was a danger to Luna was there too. And, for the last finishing touch, added a location charm that should help Harry apparate to her location if necessary.

Enchanting was an extraordinary art, Harry had to admit when he finished working on the sea-snail shell necklace that it felt good seeing it done. Not as good as exploring Dark Magic, but if he ever decided to apprentice...if he ever found his way back to his dimension. He groaned in frustration and quickly grabbed his ink, quill and parchment. Worrying over how to get back home would be all well and good when he was  _ done _ .

Diagon Alley and the Alleys near it were absolutely full, and Harry swore when he entered that for a moment spacial magics stretched the alley just a little bigger. Whoever had made  _ this _ Diagon Alley had clearly been skilled—not a second later it looked exactly like it should be and yet everyone had room to walk and enter shops without any lines or difficulty.

The point me spell didn ’t work which Harry had to approve of, even if it made his own search for Luna harder. Thankfully there were other methods—and every spell and ward had a weakness, and a good old fashion walk around with  _ Sight Unseen _ would gleam the truth of a person ’s appearance incase of potions or glamour charms.

Inbetween brief shopping moments—Harry didn ’t want to ping anyone’s suspicion, and he could definitely use more potion ingredients and books on enchantment (dark magic was, unsurprisingly restricted and banned in England and not something Harry would be able to find in Diagon), he looked for a familiar silver-blonde haired head. 

During the lunch lull where everyone was either back home or in a restaurant to eat is when Harry finally saw her. He trailed them slowly, pretending to look at odds and ends and feeling like an absolute creep.

Luna Lovegood from Harry ’s time was a bright woman who had grown into her quirks with amusement at those who tried to mock her for them. With golden-silver hair and wide blue eyes that spent time across the world—at least until a curse from the war had finally caught up to her. (Harry was still a little bitter at her for not telling him about it until it was too late)

Shaking off those thoughts, Harry noticed that the group finally stopped into  _ Ink Blot _ , the writing supply shop and was about to follow when he saw Luna come back out.

“You’ve been following us,” Luna looked more clear headed, and—surprisingly, more blunt.

Harry blinked down at her and his heart broke a little.

The frankly blatant curse scar across her forehead and bisecting one of her eyebrows hurt to see. Even worse was the way Luna ’s eyes weren’t clouded and her steps weren’t light on the ground. Oh, it was still Luna, there was no doubt.

But the things that had made her once a bright and unflinching girl had become slightly harder—a little more worn.

“I have been.” Harry said and tried not to look away even though it pained him. “I’m worried about certain elements coming to harm you.”

“Because I’m the girl who lived.” Luna’s distaste for the title would have been funny any other time. She blinked and tilted her head. There was the familiar clouding in her blue eyes.

Harry waited patiently, letting Luna choose with her instincts was always better than forcing the issue.

Finally, when Harry thought someone would notice them all alone, Luna said,  “Alright,” She nodded and the expression so serious shouldn’t have made another part of Harry’s heart splinter. This young teen should have been smiling and talking about nargles, not accepting help from a stranger. As if hearing Harry’s thoughts, Luna looked up and a small smile appeared on her lips, “The stars say to trust you, and I always listen to them.”

Harry  _ was not _ going to cry because of some familiarity. Even if it was in a thirteen year old girl. He looked down so he could hide his face, and grab the amulet which he had carefully put away earlier this morning. When it came out he peeked between his fringe and was gratified at Luna ’s clasped hands and exhaled breath. “It’s a--”

“Snail shell, it’s so pretty.” Luna finished for him, and hesitantly took the necklace into her palms, gazing at it and shivering at the magic, “It’s strong.” She murmured and there was the familiar dazed look in her eyes, “The sea whispers of lose and hope and unrelenting force.” She shook her head and looked at Harry.

It was eerie how a teenager could give the same look as her adult counterpart. Considering their vastly different experiences.

“Thank you, Harry.” Luna said, pulled the necklace over her head, and slipped back into the parchment shop.

Huffing a laugh out, Harry turned himself towards the apparition point. Leave it to Luna to figure out who he was first.

It was cutting it close, but Harry really hadn ’t thought of this first. Which, might have been because he was dreading having to interact with anyone from his past.

Luna hadn ’t necessarily  _ fixed _ that idea, but had made the whole concept easier. A little.

But, Hogwarts was where Luna would be for a majority of the year, and no matter Harry ’s subconscious or conscious reservations; would need the most protection.

That made it Harry ’s job to bring his supplies (newly minted potions carefully tucked into robe pockets (non-shake and cushioning charms cast on them)) to the Gates. In theory, Harry supposed he could see if the Defense curse was still active, maybe even join the new year and take that possible avenue from Barty if Sr, and Jr had the same mindset. But Harry had little interest in teaching, and no matter what fears Luna had assuaged he wasn’t ready to meet his parents or  _ Sirius _ or his counterpart (he shivered at the thought) so instead, here he was.

Slowly and methodically registering the wards in his journal (thank the gods for unending parchment enchanting, he was starting to love this field of magic). Quite a few of the wards, if Harry understood them, was that they were underpowered. But that didn ’t make sense, he mulled over a few of the more familiar ones.

_ Protection of the Innocent _

That one was pretty standard child-care wards. Still used even though it pre-dated the Founders. It also didn ’t require the attention of the caster which was perfect for those tired parents or guardians. Which didn’t explain why it was so weak. It held perhaps half the school in it’s grasp and even then the readings being written down by the enchanted quill were telling Harry that the ward had barely been functioning for the last two centuries.

Four centuries before it had worked at half capacity.

There were more like the  _ Protection of the Innocent _ ward, each failing one after the other. Had the Heads of Hogwarts not bothered empowering them? Harry frowned, he knew Albus was an unwilling General in this war of Voldemort but he couldn ’t see the man intentionally avoiding adding power to the wards; even to test Harry or, well, Luna in this dimension.

Harry was examining the new Wards added past the Founders (there really were a  _ lot of wards _ ) when the gates parted and Albus Dumbledore himself walked out of them. He admittedly, reacted poorly and froze, perhaps hoping the old man wouldn ’t notice him sitting beside the fence and gate of Hogwarts.

Unfortunately Albus ’ eyes immediately zeroed-in on Harry and while his expression wasn’t angry he was clearly befuddled. “May I presume you are the one that is scanning Hogwart’s wards?”

“Yes…” Harry was glad that there weren’t any apparition wards this far out or he would be far more nervous. He readied himself for a retreat even though the journal and quill were still working.

Raising a brow, Albus rubbed his beard,  “Normally I would be suspicious, and even with what information I’ve gathered I still am. But…” He paused and gazed back up at the Castle, “Hogwarts seems to think you will benefit us in someway. So I will, for the moment lead you inside.”

“The...castle wants me inside?” That was not what Harry expected to happen, and he slowly let’s out the magic he was building for a quick and dirty apparate. He hadn’t really, truly, seen any evidence of the Castle being alive in his dimension, but there were some things—like how by Harry’s fifth year he was rarely late to a class. Sometimes Snape or Filch would be nearby and suddenly a door or pathway that hadn’t been there would appear behind or near Harry. It was magic, Harry hardly was going to deny the chance of an oddity existing. “Alright.”

Albus looked pleased, if still slightly flustered,  “May I have the name of one who Hogwarts wishes entrance?”

A name...Harry hadn ’t really decided on one—he hadn’t expected to  _ need _ one. Though perhaps foolishly he had hoped no one would notice him since it was still summer and at least in his dimension the Gates were closed during this time of year.

“Harry…” Thinking of a new last name on the spot, Peverell would draw too many questions, same with the Hogwart’s founders last names, most of the dead families in Harry’s time were either alive or the people Harry knew from them were kids. He tried to think of a name that was mostly dead in Britain… “El Fen.” A line from Morgana Le Fey that had died out before the rise of Voldemort.

Except, as those words left his lips magic filled the very air itself and Harry felt his own Potter-Evan-Black family magics nudge slightly to the left and dilute enough that there was a new family magic sitting pretty and dominant.

Of course, Albus didn ’t even pretend not to notice the light show of purple and black colored magic flickering across Harry’s body. No, the old man looked  _ cheerful _ ,  “Ah, to lie so boldly about a family name and still come out on top. Wonders will never cease when it comes to magic.” He mused.

Embarrassed, and still reeling from the magical change in his very self, Harry said nothing for the rest of the walk up to Hogwarts. He could just  _ hear _ the way Hermione would sigh at him or Ron would laugh his ass off. Especially because Harry had thought the Emyrs and Pendragon lines would be too obvious so he had hoped for some obscurity and instead aligned himself  _ openly _ with the Darkest Lady in British Magical History.

The walk towards Hogwarts couldn ’t be over fast enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point do I know what I'm doing? No.
> 
> Did that stop me? Apparently not.
> 
> Enjoy~

Hogwarts felt like an old home, like a good heart-felt squeeze from Molly Weasley, and it took Harry ’s breath away even now in a different dimension.

Still, out of all the things Hogwarts had ever done, Harry hadn ’t expected it to lead Albus and Harry into it’s very depths. The walk was quiet, thankfully no more questions from Albus, though the looks and side-eyes were potent. Staircases blatantly allowed them passage, and hallways that would have led elsewhere seemed to always lead where Albus wanted them too. Harry doubted it was a Headmaster privilege if only because the man looked surprised each time it happened.

Finally, they arrived in front of a door with the familiar house mascots splayed upon it.

“Well, I have never been here, it’s always been rumored to exist.” Albus murmured running a hand through is beard before shaking his head. He glanced at Harry, “Is there perhaps another name in your family that would explain your access to Hogwart’s greatest secrets?”

_ Cryptic as always _ , Harry thought with a mix of fondness and frustration.  “None,” Harry said, “Nothing that any Wixen going far back enough would have anyway.” Almost everyone had  _ some _ Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff in them—but it was usually so diluted it wasn ’t worth mentioning unless it was a Main-Family Line.

Albus hummed and then chuckled when the door abruptly opened,  “It appears that Hogwarts is tired of my questions, let us enter than.”

If it was any other person, Harry would suspect a trap, but this was too convoluted for even one of Albus ’ schemes. Also, when Harry stepped inside he doubted even  _ Albus Dumbledore _ would allow someone near the ward-stones of Hogwarts.

Bronze, Gold, Silver, and Obsidian all lay in the very earthen stone that lead towards the rest of Hogwarts ’ base. (Harry wondered if they were above or below the Chamber of Secrets) Large too, at least five feet across each and they all centered around an orb that flickered blue, scarlet, green, and yellow. The script across the stones were the wards Harry had been examining in full detail and Harry was already taking steps toward it.

It was then that Harry realized what was wrong with the wards. The script was worn away like it hadn ’t been tended to in years, and the pathways leading from the orb were dull and cracked. Magical energy was spilling across the floor instead of running efficiently down the lines that were curled around each Founder-Stone.

“I always suspected there had to be a ward room.” Albus sounded tired when he spoke, “But I had always assumed it ran well enough, and just showed how great the Founders were that a thousand years later their work still progressed. If I had only listened to Hogwarts…how many Headmasters and mistresses ignored Hogwarts urgings?” He sounded put upon.

Harry didn ’t know for sure but he suspected most Wixen weren’t used to listening to magical sentience that wasn’t human. So the wards had deteriorated, perhaps occasionally bolstered by added wards or by those few that  _ had _ listened to Hogwarts ’ urgings. He also suspected the cracks in the magical pathways were caused by those added wards not fully integrated with the Founder-stones properly. “It will take a while but I should be able to fix it,” Harry had more than enough practice with wards after the war, not perhaps as comprehensive as Bill Weasley, but certainly nearing his expertise in the matter. 

“I will help, when I am able.” Albus said, surprising Harry.

Blinking at Albus, Harry was a lose for words. He had always felt like the Headmaster was just a step away from  _ the observer _ , and hadn ’t known if it was because of his odd connection to Voldemort that had made the Headmaster wary or something else entirely.

A weak half smile was on Albus ’ lips, “If I had listened to my own school’s urgings perhaps injuries and dangers would have been avoided.” He sighed, “It is the least I can do to make amends.” He nodded at the Founder-stones, “And I know a little of ward-craft, allow me to apologize to Hogwarts properly.”

Amused, Harry agreed.

Somehow, Harry should have expected that wasn ’t the end of it. Oh, Albus worked on the wards with him, cleaning and modifying the leylines that ran from the orb (which was a clever bit of magic that absorbed student’s, teacher’s, and guests’ ambient magic and converted it into the  _ Founders _ magical signature so that the wards would never really need to be changed or modified to allow new magical  ‘owners’) into the Founder-stones. The script didn’t need much more than a brief cleaning because as soon as the leylines were fixed the script re-emerged as if they had always been there.

The wards that had been piled  _ onto _ the old ones were easy to dismantle, if quite a mess of decaying energy. The problem with making wards for each new Headmaster and no doubt the reason for the orb that converted ambient magic.

But, after all of that, Harry should have truly expected this.

“I don’t even have my Newts.” Which was true enough, Harry had never bothered with them, an apprenticeship or any Mastery or University courses. Self Study had been easier and less chance of people trying to coddle, demean, or simper at the _Boy who Lived_.

“Yes, but you are the one who found the curse to the Defense Position, and that shows skill and quite a bit of magical knowledge.” Albus gave him a shrewd look, “It also seems that Hogwarts has taken a fondness for you.” There was that scheming look again.

Harry didn ’t even want to know what Albus was planning outside of the Defense position there were no other openings, and to be honest he really had no interest in teaching. After all, he still had to find and kill Voldemort or whatever was left of him. “ _ We _ only found it because the wards returned to half strength. ” He suspected it would take all the students and professors to return to Hogwarts before the Wards were back to full strength, but even then they had easily indicated the problem areas—the curse being on the head table made a sort of sense. It was weak enough that everytime a Defense Professor sat there it would increase in potency.

Again with that annoying smile.

With a sigh, Harry leaned back into his seat. He wished Fawkes was here, the phoenix would surely put some sense into Dumbledore, and then Harry could perhaps sneak out during the familiar-wizard argument. Alas, he was alone (excluding the Portraits, who he ignored) in this  ‘meeting’, “I can’t be at Hogwarts, I’m busy looking for Voldemort.” Thankfully without his full power at the fore, his stupid taboo wouldn’t work.

Surprise flickered across Albus ’ face, taking away that gleaming and crafty look. “You’re seeking Voldemort.”

“Yes…” How much to tell? Harry didn’t want to give too much away. “I had an encounter with his follower and almost dealt with the homunculus that claimed to be Voldemort. Unfortunately they fled before I could destroy it fully.”

Paling, Albus leaned back and ran a hand over his face,  “I had hoped that after last years quiet…” He sighed and shook his head, and he looked thoughtful now.

Never a good sign when it came to a Dumbledore. They were too canny for their own good—even Aberforth when Harry had met him had that Slytherin like cunning.

“You said you encountered and injured them, then they will no doubt be in hiding until they are ready.” Albus’ eyes were twinkling again.

Harry sighed, he knew where this was going.

“So you can of course stay here until such a time is presented to you. Even better, several parents have requested we add new classes. What better way to start then adding a Warding class?” There was that damnable plot. Albus was even smiling pleasantly.

“..With a person who doesn’t even have a Warding Mastery.” Harry rubbed his fingers against his forehead—truly, if he didn’t want to out his knowledge he would recommend Bill, or Archy Elton who had been one of the top warders they had on their side—who probably was alive here…probably.

A hand wave was Albus ’ response, “Hardly necessary when you were able to solve the Hogwarts Wards, and anyone with the ability to sense those Wards will know that as well.”

“No,” Harry said with fear running through him, “You are not going to tell everyone I did that.” Bad enough he had been the boy who conquered and lived in his old dimension. He didn’t want more fame.

“How else will we prove you’re a good enough teacher?” Albus countered, and he leaned back, “Voldemort is canny and it’s foolish to think that slight harm to him will be enough to bring him down.”

Harry refrained from pointing out that it wasn ’t slight harm. He didn’t want Albus to question his knowledge on the Dark Lord or how easily he had taken away his link to the mortal plane. He sighed, thinking on it. Having a place in Hogwarts would certainly help in keeping track of Luna, and he did need allies. Even if it was  _ just in the slim chance _ that Voldemort somehow survived the purification. The man was overzealous when he was wronged.  “I could take the Newts,” He finally muttered.

“In a weeks time?” Albus asked dryly.

Which, was fair but also, Harry  _ didn _ _ ’t want too _ . Gods, he hadn ’t felt this petulant since fifth year. “Fine, fine.” He wondered if all Headmasters drove their students to childishness or if it was just their odd and quirky relationship.

Albus looked pleased and pulled out parchment and quill,  “I’ll start on the paperwork, send me your booklist and lesson plans when you are ready but preferably before the starting day.”

Harry gave Albus a mutinous glare, stood up, and walked out. Maybe if he was lucky Voldemort would show up before September 1st, but Harry doubted it. Even Felix Felicis couldn ’t make him  _ that  _ lucky.

There were …a lot of books on warding. It didn’t help that most of Harry’s knowledge wasn’t based on books but dirty old fashioned experimenting and taught knowledge. After all, during the War there had been no time for Harry to sit down and study. Either Hermione, Molly, Bill, Archy, or any other member of the resistance would teach him off the cuff wards. Some minor things like the child-parent ward that Molly was a dab hand at (modified just right Harry could keep track of Hermione and Ron while he slept), or Hermione’s disillusionment ward which was an old modification of the charm to be spread outwards around a place or group.

All this meant that Harry had to research, study, and jot down his own ward knowledge and cross reference.

To say he was frazzled by the end of it was putting it mildly.

But, somehow Harry  _ had _ a lesson plan, and alright three books on warding, but he didn ’t like the theory of the first (though it had a reasonable good foundation of minor wards), wasn’t interested in the wards in the second (the theory was basic), and the last had the gold mine; theory, wards, and even discussion of different warding methods from runes to blood.

Once it was sent out to Dumbledore, Harry went to  _ sleep _ .

**Author's Note:**

> We support All Trans folk and All Black Lives.


End file.
